Trouble with a Capital T
by Ice Cube1
Summary: Captain William Jewell doesn't know why he's so drawn to this Lieutenant. After all, Lieutenant Rogers isn't much more than just another face in the crowd of people under his command in Hyperion Heights. But when a storm rolls in and Rogers is frantic to find his informant, well what else was Jewell going to do but tag along? Too bad his SUV has 4-wheel drive, not 4-wheel stop!
1. Chapter 1

They'd been on the road for what felt like hours. Rogers seemed far more frantic than an officer should be over a missing informant, but Jewell had found him, just about to break the window to one of the only remaining patrol cars in order to 'borrow' it to go looking for the girl. Tilly. She'd been Weaver's once upon a time, which made Jewell wary of her, but since the slick little man had been shot by her, she'd seemed to latch onto Rogers.

And Rogers onto her.

So William had led Rogers to his own SUV, far more suited to the snow than the lonely old car that had clearly been left behind for a reason. If it would make the younger detective feel better to be out looking for her, well, Jewell didn't have anything better to do with his night anyway.

* * *

"Where _is_ she?" Killian kept mumbling, looking over his shoulder as if his older bro... as if his _captain_ , his captain not his brother - not _yet_ \- would answer him.

Gothel's threat echoed in his ears. Liam was safe as long as he was still cursed, as long as he had no idea that the man sitting in the passenger seat was his _brother_ rather than just his subordinate. As long as he had no idea that the stubborn young woman they were combing the streets for was his _niece_. Was Killian's little girl, long grown up while they were separated, but still the little one he'd held so carefully the day he'd found her in her tower.

He'd tried to bring Alice back to his flat, back under his watchful eye and under a bloody _roof_ and with him, where they could hopefully make up for some of the lost time they'd suffered. But his little girl... his young woman now... was stubborn (clearly she came by it honestly) and she'd refused, skipping off with a riddle and a toothy grin that had never failed to get her what she wanted from him. Killian _longed_ for the days when she wanted marmalade for every meal and to stay up late to see the stars and to sleep in her Papa's bed because it was cozier (which was only so once he'd been summarily squashed to one side and then to the floor. His Alice was an unrepentant bed hog).

Most days, he _almost_ didn't mind granting her her freedom. She'd been trapped in that tower for so long, after all, he couldn't deny her the desire to sleep under the stars, in the freedom of wherever she wanted to be _whenever_ she wanted to be. But there was a huge storm coming. The worst the city had seen in years, if the bloody weathermen were to be believed. He couldn't countenance seeing her spend the night shivering in the troll's lap or in the park or down by the water. Not when he had a breath left in his body to argue with her to come home - just for a few nights. Surely, she wouldn't deny him that.

Night was falling, and with it the temperatures. It had been unseasonably warm just last week, and Killian had thought he'd have more time to convince Alice to move into the apartment with him - just for the winter. She'd refused several times already, and he'd responded with a backpack full of blankets and hand warmers to show that he understood, but now... now he was too worried about what the night would bring and where she'd hunker down and if he'd find an Alice-popsicle once the storm had blown over.

"Where _is_ she?" he mumbled again.

"We'll find her, Detective, don't worry," his brother... his _captain_ reassured, turning down another side street towards one of the homeless camps that he knew had popped up recently. Gods, he just wanted Liam... William to wake up, to understand his worry, to... to...

He wanted his captain to never wake up if it meant that he'd be-

The screech of tires and the crunch of metal were the last things Killian heard before everything went black.

Gods, it all hurt. His legs were screaming, his face was burning, his arms were shooting pain, his chest felt like a dragon was sitting on it. Everything hurt. The world swam around him sickeningly and he could only imagine what would happen if he tried to open his eyes. He wasn't sure what had happened, not entirely, memories of driving around in the car looking for a girl... the girl... and then bright lights and darkness. He needed to open his eyes, he needed to make sure the car was off, he needed to check on...

A moan flitted through the car and he turned his head instinctively towards it. He wasn't alone in the car, he needed to make sure that his... that the owner of that moan was okay. But first, he needed to open his eyes and see what had happened, why he hurt, why that moan sounded even worse than everything he felt. They were in trouble and he needed to get help.

Killian's eyes finally fluttered open, the limb of a tree cutting across his field of vision and, thankfully, not cutting across anything _else_ of his, the tips of the branches scratching across his face but not doing any real damage. The blood dripping down from his hairline was warm and was gluing his eye shut, the hot feel of swelling finishing the job and making everything seem closer than it really was.

All except Liam.

Liam, sitting in the seat next to him, his face buried in the airbag and frighteningly still, was so, so very far away from him, though Killian could have reached a few inches and touched his older brother's thigh. It hurt so very much to even think about moving, but he did it anyway, trying his best to bite back a moan as he reached out with his prosthetic until he could feel the echo of feeling vibrating along his arm. If he pretended, Killian could almost make himself think that he could feel the warmth of Liam's leg through his jeans.

"Li-" he bit off his plea. _Try again, Jones_ , he thought bitterly, Gothel's threat again in his ears. "Captain?" Nothing. Silence filled the air in the rapidly cooling car.

Killian turned slowly, igniting a hundred different insults and injuries as he did so, needing to reach out with his right hand, needing to touch his brother's skin, to feel for warmth, to check for a pulse. He'd heard the moan, knew that his brother was alive, but it didn't help the fear, didn't change the fact that he needed to feel his brother's life beat under his fingers.

He couldn't reach across the damned car for the bloody tree between them.

Growling angrily, Killian worked at snapping at the branches, piling the wood uselessly on the console between them, trying to ignore the twinges and the blood and the fire that each movement caused.

He needed... he needed Liam.

He needed his big brother.

Trying to reach through the branches made his breaths come short and sweat beaded on his upper lip. If he hadn't broken ribs in the crash, then he would buy a lottery ticket and give it to Alice when they got out of this. She'd be a bloody millionaire. The branches scratched at his arm, at his face, but he persisted, trying to worm his right arm awkwardly through to get to Liam's throat. If he could just...

A stab of pain shot through his back and shoulder, forcing him to instinctively pull his hand back and cradle his arm to his chest. _Damn, that hurts_ , he thought, biting his lip until the sharp pains died down.

Frustration came next, burning deep in his gut and mixing with the anger that came from realizing that they'd been run off the road - whether by accident or by design, he wasn't sure - and that no one was coming to their aid. Grabbing the tree limb with both hands, Killian shook it angrily, taking out his frustration and-

"Argggggh!"

Gods, he never wanted to hear that noise come from his brother's throat again.

"Please... detect... ive. Don- don't do that... again."

Killian's hand froze on the tree branches, his frustration fading out like the ebb of a retreating tide and replaced with the hot, bubbling feeling of guilt. _He'd_ just hurt Liam.

"I'm... I'm sorry," he whispered, shaking a little. "Are you all right? Captain?"

There was a few moments of silence save for the whistling of the wind as it picked up. Killian tried not to hold his breath, tried not to count the number of times Liam inhaled shakily before he found his voice.

"Aye." It was a little bit choked, but it was music to Killian's ears. "Just... don't do that again, please?"

Killian nodded jerkily, though Liam wasn't looking at him to see. "Of course. I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine, Detective," Liam paused, and Killian found himself wishing that Liam would just turn his head and look at him. "Are you all right?"

Killian hadn't really taken stock. Everything hurt, yes, but it was his ribs giving him the most trouble. That and whatever white-hot pain that was still attacking his back and shoulder. His legs hurt, but it seemed to be more the abrupt stop caused by the trunk of the tree rather than actual injury as he could move them well eno-

Nope. Check that, he could move his left leg without too much difficulty, but he was in no hurry to try moving the right one again any time soon. Not unless Liam needed-

"Detective?" There was a note of worry - nearly masked by the pain - in Liam's voice.

"I'll be all right," Killian allowed. "What happened?"

Liam scoffed, rolling his head to finally, _finally_ look at Killian. There was blood dripping down the side of his face and his eyes were glassy. "I was hoping you could tell me that."

"I don't know," Killian admitted. He hadn't been paying attention to their surroundings, worried far more for Alice than for himself and his broth- the man sitting next to him in the godsdamned car and bleeding from at least one place that Killian could see. He didn't know if it was an accident or on purpose, if it had been bloody Gold, Gothel or even Rapunzel, Tremaine, whatever her bloody name was. Had it merely been the gnarled hands of the Fates, making the roads slick and sending some innocent passerby into their thread?

Whatever the reason, they were stuck in the woods in a car that didn't work and very little left of a windshield that might have helped to conserve some of their body heat.

"Do you have blankets in here? An emergency kit?"

Liam grunted sadly. "Of course. In the trunk."

Killian's head slammed back against the headrest, making him see stars and making his stomach roll. Might as well be in the bloody station for all the good it did them there. He tried to move his leg again, fiery pain working its way from his calf all the way up into his hip and shooting up his spine, leaving him gasping.

"Rogers?" There was enough alarm in Liam's voice to cut through the pain. He'd sounded so much like the brother Killian remembered now, the one who had looked after him as a child and who he thought he'd lost for good. Gods, Killian just wanted to hear Liam call him by name. By his _real_ name.

He wouldn't even complain if Liam called him 'little' brother.

Well, not much anyway.

"Detective. Answer me, that's an order!" Liam demanded.

 _Oh._ He'd drifted off there for a moment.

"I'm here," was all he could manage through clenched teeth.

He heard movement next to him, tried to open his eyes to see what Liam was doing. He felt the branch moving next to his head, heard Liam's sharp grunts of pain. Needing to stop his brother from injuring himself, Killian wrenched his arm away from his leg and reached across the console to lay his prosthetic on Liam's thigh again.

"I'm here."

Killian heard the pointed whoosh of relief that escaped from Liam even as he felt the muscles of his brother's thigh relax.

"Don't _do_ that again," Liam whispered. It clenched at Killian in a way he wished it wouldn't. _Liam_ would, of course, be that worried about him - at all times in all situations, even when he'd only gotten a (in his opinion, anyway) rather large splinter in his foot as a boy and was clearly in minimal danger - but _Captain Jewell_ , while he had always shown a bit of preferential treatment towards Rogers (Killian thought it was a hint of his true nature peeking through the curse) he didn't have the same familial attachment.

But damn if it didn't sound like he did.

"I'm sorry," Killian whispered through the silence, unsure if he was apologizing for frightening his captain or for getting his brother into this in the first place. They were out here because of _him_. They were in trouble, again, because of _him_. They were _always_ in dire straits of some sort because of _him_. Liam's life had always been fraught with peril because of _him_.

"What happened?" Liam asked again. "Where are we?"

 _What?!_

"Li- Captain?"

Liam shifted, bit back a gasp, and reached down to snag Killian's prosthetic hand. "What's wrong with you? You're hurt?"

"Aye," Killian felt shaky with the depth of his relief. He'd thought for a moment that-

"What are we doing out here?"

 _Bloody hell._

"We were in an accident. We were looking for Al- for Tilly. Do you remember that?"

It seemed like an eternity passed (and he'd spent centuries in Neverland for gods' sake) before Liam responded with an unsure, "Aye."

Killian shivered, and it wasn't entirely from the cold. "Are you all r-"

"You didn't answer my question."

Killian hadn't cried in a long time. Not since the day he'd had to leave Alice behind, his heart cursed and shattering under their shared grief. He wanted to break down and sob now.

"Are. You. All. Right?" Liam spoke slowly, as if to a child.

 _Oh._

"Aye, my leg's trapped, I think. I'm all right, br- sir."

There was shuffling next to him and Killian could feel Liam's leg moving as he tried to... to what? What was his brother doing? The branch shook and Killian grabbed it out of instinct, trying to keep it still so that it wouldn't injure Liam further. "What are you _doing_?" he asked hotly, defensive when anyone was hurting his brother.

Even if it was his brother hurting himself.

"Checking on you," Liam responded as if Killian had asked him what time it was. He shifted again, and this time bit back a cry.

"Stay _still_ , damn it. You're going to start bleeding worse."

Liam stopped moving and Killian breathed out a sigh of relief.

"Bleeding?"

Killian's head whipped around to face his brother, biting back a cry of his own when that made _everything_ hurt. He started carefully breaking the branches again, this time far more careful not to shake the main limb as he did so. He had to see how badly Liam was hurt. He had to know if... if...

If he was going to lose his brother before he really got him back.

"Hurts," Liam whispered, his face coming more and more into view as the damned pine branches finally started to cooperate.

Killian grimaced. "I know, b... but I've got to... do you have a knife?"

There was some more shifting and grunting, but Killian held the tree limb steady until the sound of metal dropping into the console startled him. He grabbed the tactical blade and made short work of the rest of the small branches, finally able to see his brother, see where the tree limb led, see the grotesque scene that Liam was either ignoring or shockingly unaware of.

He'd been lucky - if you could call being stuck on the end of a tree limb like a lollipop lucky. But it hadn't impaled his chest, lodging in the muscle of his upper arm instead. There would be damage there, yes, and he was still bleeding, far too pale for Killian's liking, and his eyes were glassy - seemingly unaware of his predicament - but he could survive that.

Provided, of course, that they got out of the bloody car and to medical aid before they froze to death.

"One more, brother, can you hold on for me?"

Liam nodded, clenching his teeth and bringing his left hand up to clutch at his arm. He cried out as Killian sliced through the end of the limb, leaving a fairly sizeable piece protruding from his arm, but no longer attached to the rest of the godsdamned tree. Killian shoved it back a little, using it as the best he could to block the wind while still giving him some room to move.

"Damn it, Liam. This is still bleeding."

Liam turned his head, staring at the wood in his arm as if he hadn't known it was there before.

Killian squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. They were in trouble.

"Det... Detective, please."

It felt like ice water had been dumped over his head. He'd forgotten, for a moment, just who he was in the car with. He'd forgotten...

"I just... I need a moment," Liam practically begged when Killian tried to push against the puckered skin around the stake of wood.

Killian grimaced, but kept up the pressure. "I have to stop the bleeding. Just a little more, all right? I promise," he lied.

Liam had lied to him like that, once upon a time (several once upon a time's ago) when the gashes on his back had been just a little too deep, just a little too ragged. It was all fair in love and war, and... and it didn't make Killian feel any better to lie about what he was doing.

"Just a moment... please? Please, just let... let me catch my... breath. Hurts."

Killian shivered. Liam was the strong one, the one who never let on like this. Killian tried; he'd always tried to be as strong as Liam, but never quite measured up. He'd long ago put his brother up on a pedestal and Liam set the bar so high that Killian knew that, with all his screw ups, he'd never get there.

"It's all right, Ca-Captain. I've almost got it."

"Please," he begged again.

There was so much godsdamned blood, dripping from the wound, staining the shirt underneath, soaking into his jeans. It was trickling, and Killian sent up a plea and a prayer of thanks that that's _all_ it was doing, but Liam couldn't afford for this not to stop.

"I need to get the..." he trailed off, looking over his shoulder as best he could. The trunk seemed to be miles away, but with the tree branch out of the way, he could - maybe - climb through the backseat and get to the-

"Rogers?"

"Right here, I'm right here. Are you all right?"

"'m cold. Why's it so cold?"

 _Gods,_ he needed that kit, those blankets.

"Where in the trunk are the blankets?" Killian asked, more to keep Liam talking than to figure anything out. "In the wheel well? Or just thrown in the back?"

He knew better. There were plenty of things that had changed in Liam under the curse - namely that one cold case that Killian _couldn't_ tell him wasn't _really_ real. It was, in a sense. But Liam's lit... _younger_ brother was sitting right next to him. But even curses and centuries couldn't drum one thing out of William Jewell, Liam Jones, whoever he was today.

He was a regimented neat freak.

"Left side of the trunk, behind the tactical vests."

 _See?_

"All right, do you have-"

"Why did you call me that?"

 _Bloody hell, what now?_

"Call you what?"

Liam reached out and snagged Killian's arm, garnering his full attention. "Liam. No one's called me Liam in years. Not since… not since my little brother… since we were..."

 _Bloody_ **buggering** _hell_.

"I won't do it again, if it-"

"No!" Liam interrupted, then seemed almost to shrink in on himself. "No. I… I don't mind. Not with you."

Killian's breath caught in his throat. "All right. L-Liam. I'm going to try and get into the backseat. Keep talking to me, all right? Tell me about..." he trailed off. He didn't want Liam to talk about the little brother he _thought_ he had raised.

Gothel's threat rang in his ears again. Liam was only safe as long as he _didn't_ remember Killian.

"How about I tell you about my first case?" Liam asked when Killian was silent for too long.

He nodded absently, working his hand down towards his seatbelt and trying to make the prosthetic work. "Aye, I haven't heard that one." He _had_. But Liam didn't seem to remember that.

Liam droned on as Killian finally freed himself from the belt and shoved the airbag out of the way. He shivered as a gust of wind rattled the car, reminding him of the urgency.

And then he twisted, trying to contort his body so that he could slither through to the backseat.

He didn't realize he was screaming in agony until everything went black, Liam's shouts fading into the darkness.

* * *

The scream echoed through the SUV until Jewell wanted to clap his hands over his ears to shut it out. It was terrifying. It was the kind of shout that haunted your nightmares and your waking moments if you let down your defenses for a split second. It rattled him from the inside out, make him shake with fear and call out, begging Rogers to stop. To please, just be quiet and tell him what was wrong.

It roiled his stomach, that shout, making him nauseated and weak. If he thought he could have managed it, if just the idea of moving his arm didn't make him nearly pass out from the pain emanating from that bloody stake in his arm, he'd have turned and shook Rogers, clapped a hand over his mouth, _anything_ to make him just please, please stop.

Anything to get a word in edgewise and figure out _what_ was making him scream like _that_.

And then it was silent. Deadly silent like they'd been sucked into a vacuum and any words between them would have withered away before they could even be formed.

"R-Rogers?" he ventured, his voice shaky from more than just the loss of blood.

There was nothing. No movement, no words, nothing but the stuttered breathing from his detective that eventually evened out. Not into the sound of sleep, but easy enough to make out in the silence of the car.

"Rogers, _please_ ," he begged, not knowing what he needed from the man.

Just a word. Just one word, a grunt, _anything_. Some sign that the man in the car next to him would be all right.

"Bloody hell," he murmured to himself, reaching shakily through what Rogers had left of the branches until he could lay his hand on the other man's arm. White hot agony shot out from the gash in his own arm, the wood embedded there shaking with his effort to move.

Rogers was cold.

 _Not_ the bone chilling cold of death, not the way his little brother had felt in his arms that day, cold and stiff and so, so alone - even wrapped up in William's arms and coat even though it wasn't enough, _he_ hadn't been enough to protect his only flesh and blood from... from _that_.

No, Rogers wasn't cold like that, but he _was_ cold, trembling slightly even in unconsciousness.

 _Bloody hell_ , the goddamned blankets were in the trunk and he needed to get them. He needed to get Rogers warm, to find a way to get them help, to...

To keep his little brother safe from...

 _No!_ No, Rogers wasn't his brother. He'd failed his little brother and he couldn't help _him_ now, but he could help Rogers. He could still keep this man, _this man_ who trusted him and followed him.

He could help Rogers. If he could get the blankets, get him warm, then maybe get back up to the road and... and what?

What was he doing?

The _blankets_ , right. He needed to get to the blankets. Get Kil- he shook his head, get Rogers warm, see what had made him scream, see if he could find their cell phones and hope that the storm wouldn't have picked up before he could get a call or a text out.

But first, he needed to get to the back of the car, to the left of the trunk, near where he stored the tactical vests.

Jewell twisted towards his right, trying to slither between the seats like he was sure Rogers had meant to do.

 _That_ was a stupendously awful idea.

He'd have to go out the door. Into the cold.

The wind wrapped around him as he stumbled out into the cold, the first flakes of snow pelting him and stinging his cheeks.

Where was he going?

* * *

The cold seeped in first, laying carefully over him like a wet blanket and making him shiver. The sound filtered in next, wind whipping around the car but strangely muted as if there was a tarp over the vehicle. Then the pain stabbed through him, radiating out from his leg and wrapping around his ribs then shooting up into his head. He wanted to curl up in a ball and let the darkness take him, but something was just out of reach. Something pressing and important, something that he needed to take care of before he could fade back into unconsciousness.

Something important. More important than escaping the pain. More important than him.

There were only two people in all the realms that fell into that category, and last he checked, his lost and found Alice wasn't here with them. He couldn't help her right now, but Liam-

 _Liam!_

Killian's eyes shot open, his head whipping over to the driver's seat where Liam would be... should be...

Where the bloody buggering hell was his brother?

"Liam?" he called, his voice shaky now that he was consciously calling his brother by... he _shouldn't_ , shouldn't tempt the Fates by treating his brother so familiarly, but Jewell... _Liam_ had asked him to call him by name and Killian couldn't deny him that.

Not if it was all he'd get to have of his brother.

The godsdamned door was open. Had someone come? Weaver? Or Gothel? Or someone to help? Had they left him for dead, thinking that he'd been finished off by whatever had caused him to pass out before?

 _No, don't be silly, Jones. Liam wouldn't leave you behind._

So where was he? Had he gone for help? His arm... gods, his arm was still bleeding and it was downright frigid with the wind and the snow and the...

"Godsdamnit, brother, where _are_ you?"

And then he saw it. His brother's boot - hopefully his booted _foot_ and not _just_ his boot - was just visible in the snow.

 _Oh gods. No, please. No._

"Liam! _Liam!_ "

Killian reached for the seatbelt, forgetting that it was already undone, scrabbling at the empty clasp until his freedom filtered through. He slammed his shoulder against the passenger's side door, eyes on the red part of the locking mechanism that told him he _should_ be able to get out of the bloody, godsdamned car.

"Liam! Brother, answer me!"

The door didn't budge.

Liam didn't move.

"ARGHH!" Killian snarled, nearly breaking off the handle in its stubborn, good-for-nothing need to stay firmly closed. He needed to get out of the bloody car and help his brother. He'd have to go over the console, work his way around the gearshift, and get out Liam's door.

Killian shoved at the pine branches that littered the space between the seats, worked the main limb as far out of the windshield as he dared, as careful as he could manage to keep the snow outside and what remained of the glass intact. He may need the insulation for Liam once he figured out what the bloody ponce had done.

 _Don't you know? He did it for you,_ the thought crept up unbidden, but he knew it was true. Whatever it was that Liam was doing, and the blankets and medical kit in the trunk were a pretty good guess, he'd done it for Killian.

The path clear, Killian took a deep breath and levered himself up out of the seat.

And started screaming again.

 _Don't pass out,_ **can't** _pass out,_ he kept repeating, sinking back into the seat and gasping, trying to bat away the stars and the darkness that started to close in on him. Gulping back the nausea, Killian reached down the length of his pant leg, holding his breath as he got closer and closer to his knee, and just beyond to where the pain was igniting his leg.

 _Oh, gods,_ he bit back the bile, closing his eyes against the sickening feeling beneath his fingers.

The plastic of the door was jagged and broken, the metal of the frame bent inwards and sharp. But that wasn't what turned Killian's stomach, what made him pass out before and nearly again now.

No, it was the smooth, cold feel of bone, sticking out from the bloody mess of his skin and caught behind the metal of the door.

Killian let his head drop back against the headrest, panting with exertion and sick with pain. It was no use. His foot was wedged in so he couldn't move his leg even if each attempt hadn't made his vision go white and his stomach roll. He had to get out of the car, he had to get to Liam, he had to save his brother.

"Liam!" he shouted for what felt like the millionth time, frustration and worry bubbling up into anger as he tried to wrench his leg free again.

 _Damn, that hurts._

Shaking now, Killian grasped just over his knee, squeezing tightly and once again cursing the prosthetic that adorned his left arm. He missed his hook, not entirely sure he wanted to think about what he'd do with it to get to Liam, but far more used to _that_ after centuries than used to the five semi-mobile fingers that never seemed to do just what he wanted.

And Liam still hadn't moved.

He wasn't sure if it had been minutes or hours since he'd first woken to Liam insensate in the snow, but it was enough time that his boot was covered in white and if he hadn't woken when he had, he might never have realized his brother was _right there_.

"Liam!" he yelled again, a trace of fear leaking into his brother's name. They needed help, and they needed it now.

No one was coming.

Killian slammed his head back again, ignoring the stars that erupted in his vision and trying to focus. If he could just...

Killian clenched his teeth and reached down towards his calf again. Liam would do it for him, Liam would be strong enough for him. He bit back a scream when his fingers touched his own bone again, but he ignored it as best he could and reached around the metal trapping the bone. He wrapped the prosthetic around his leg, the feel of the leather glove sliding over bone sickening. With both hands wrapped around his calf, Killian started to pull.

Bone screeched against metal, bile rose in his throat, fire licked at his leg. It didn't matter, he kept pulling, kept straining, kept trying to slide his foot out.

It hurt. Gods it hurt so bloody much, but he wouldn't stop. Not until he was free.

"BROTHER!" He screamed, loud and long into the silence.


	2. Chapter 2

Everything was white. Everything was buzzing. Someone was screaming.

 _Oh,_ wait that was him.

Killian sagged sideways, nearly toppling over and letting his head rest on Liam's seat as he tried to catch his breath. Tears stung his eyes and his cheeks, but he couldn't have bitten them back if he tried. It hurt, _gods_ it hurt so much more than it had a few minutes ago. He didn't actually know a body part _could_ hurt that much - and he'd lost a bloody hand, had the stump cauterized, and survived the resultant infection and fever.

He glared at his leg, sure that he'd rather the bloody Crocodile lop it off aga-

His leg was free.

Killian stared for longer than should have been necessary, not quite understanding that he'd been successful. He could feel the blood soaking his pants, could see the jagged end of the bone poking out. But he wasn't trapped any more, and that meant he could get to Liam.

Killian's ribs screamed nearly as loudly as his leg as he slithered backwards over the console, into Liam's seat with his leg propped up on his own seat. Gods, it looked a mess.

It was too much. Killian twisted, finally losing the contents of his stomach onto the ground just outside the car. More tears fell as he gagged and retched until there was nothing left.

Finally spent, Killian clutched at his ribs and rested his head on the steering wheel, breathing in shakily until the agony muted enough to concentrate again.

Liam.

There was nothing for it, he _had_ to get to his brother. So he slid backwards until he could get his left foot into the wheelwell and used it to lever himself out of the car.

He hit his hands and knees, retching again into the snow and nearly collapsing forward into the last of his dinner.

Liam.

Killian bit back the nausea, shook his head to try and clear the stars, and crawled to his brother, heedless of the drops of blood he was leaving behind.

Liam's eyes were closed.

Killian wasn't sure why this surprised him, but it did. "Brother?" He didn't know why he expected a response, something about how Liam had always been there for him ( _until he wasn't_ ) and how he'd clearly come back from the dead or from another realm or timeline or... had come back to him. For him.

"Brother, please," Killian begged, moving to turn Liam over slowly, carefully, gingerly enough not to exacerbate his injuries any further. He settled Liam's head in his lap, brushing back the damp curls and trying to rid his brother's cheeks of the snow. His skin was pink in some places and frighteningly pale in others, but he was breathing, soft puffs of air that Killian could see in the air above his mouth.

Another tear leaked down Killian's face and he dashed it away angrily, sniffling it back and trying to get hold of himself.

"Please, Brother, I need you," he begged, almost expecting his brother's eyes to open at the raw need in his plea. Liam had always… would always be there to help him.

The only thing that answered him was the wind.

Killian let himself wallow for a moment, but only a brief one, determined to save his brother and possibly himself. He couldn't do that if he was just sitting in the snow like a lost little boy who didn't matter to anyone and never would. (He'd seen enough of them in Neverland to last several lifetimes, thanking his stars every time that he'd had Liam growing up when no one else in the world wanted them.)

 _All right, Jones, that's enough of_ that _now,_ he thought angrily, boxing up the memories, the emotions, the abandonment, and shoving it to the side.

A shiver worked its way through him, igniting any number of injuries and reminding him that there was still the unknown issue with his shoulder that had been lost in the agony of everything else. No time for that now, he had to get Liam back into the car and then find the damn blankets.

Killian sat Liam up, propping him - slumped nearly on his side - against the front door. Levering himself to his own feet, Killian bit back a cry when he set weight on his injured leg. Pain flared out from the open and jagged fracture, but it held him up.

Barely.

"Liam? Brother, can you hear me?" he asked when he thought he saw Liam move. Nothing happened and Killian put it on the back burner. Carefully, he dragged Liam backwards, knowing that it would be easier to lump him into the backseat than to try and contort him back into the driver's seat. Wrenching open the door nearly made him falter, unintentionally putting more weight on his leg than he'd meant to and clenching the muscles around his ribs.

The worst, he knew, was yet to come.

"All right, Brother, stay with me," he mumbled, looping his arms under Liam's and heaving with a sharp cry.

Killian was shaking with exertion by the time he had Liam nearly upright, but he couldn't stop. Not now. Not when his brother was so limp. With less care than he'd intended, Killian flopped Liam into the seat.

His brother screamed when he landed on his injured arm.

Killian bit back a grimace when Liam's eyes opened to slits and he rolled to try and grasp his wounded arm. Blood started to trickle out around the stake of wood again and Killian slammed the door shut before he could fixate on it. He needed to get to the trunk, get to the gauze and the pressure bandages and the godsdamned blankets. He heard Liam's mumbled question, heard his brot... captain, _captain, damnit_ , call his name - his _cursed_ name - but he couldn't focus on that. If he did... if he did, he'd never get to the trunk.

Was it too much to ask to want his...

 _Yes_ , yes it was too much to ask, the risk too high, the threat too real. Gods, he wanted his brother back and awake more than anything, but he couldn't risk it. Even if he had so many questions. Why was Liam here? **How** was Liam here? Would he stay? Could he forgive Killian for who he'd become? For turning pirate and forsaking the crown that Liam had so willingly followed?

For spending hundreds of years seeking vengeance instead of peace?

Would his brother stay with him now?

Did he still love him?

He stumbled, his leg giving out on him and sending him crashing, face first into the snow.

 _Bloody, buggering, son of a kraken,_ he thought violently, shaking the snow off as best as he could and cursing several deities and Mother Nature in the process. The snow was falling thick and fast, the air whipped into a frenzy with the storm. He had to get up, to stand again, to keep moving. It was so tempting to lie there, but no one was coming to save them. It was the Jones brothers against the world, always had been, always would be.

Killian pushed himself to his knees, snarling out his pain instead of screaming like he wanted to. He couldn't… Liam was somewhat conscious in the car and he needed to stay there. The stubborn bastard would come running if Killian screamed.

It took longer than he'd like, but he managed to drag himself up with help from the bumper. Putting weight on his leg came next, nearly sobbing when the snow settled on the jagged edge of the bone and it erupted in fire. Killian gasped out a breath around his ribs, dropping his forehead to the cold window for a moment and just trying to breathe.

Numb fingers reached out, searching until he saw them wrap around the door handle. A moment longer to breathe and gather his strength and he stood tall, his leg protesting vehemently, and yanked open the trunk.

The blankets and medkit were exactly where Liam said they'd be.

 _Thank the bloody gods something's gone right_ , he thought wryly, nearly crossing himself in a ghost's memory of his cursed self lest he bring down calamity on them. He threw the blankets over the back of the seat so they wouldn't get damp in the snow and wind, and then made his way around to the passenger's side, hoping beyond hope that he'd be able to get the door open.

Liam's shaggy curls greeted him and Killian breathed out a sigh of relief. He sat on the edge of the seat for a moment, nearly screaming again when he had to put all his weight on his injured leg to get into the car. It took longer than he'd like, but he managed to slide in, to settle Liam's head in his lap, and to shut the door again.

"Why did you call me your brother?"

Killian busied himself with spreading the blankets out over Liam's large frame, inwardly marveling at how so much of his brother managed to fit in so small a space. He tucked the first blanket tightly around his legs, then shook the second one out as best he could and left it loose, prepared to tuck it over his brother's shoulders after he'd taken care of the impalement that was still bleeding sluggishly.

"Detective?"

Killian was sure it was meant to be an order, but it came out breathy and questioning. Liam was weak, he needed help. Killian would have to get him squared away and then try to make it to the road. He'd found one of their cell phones in the snow, tossed in the crash and shattered, and the other had no service and the battery was low.

"I... I wasn't calling for _you_ ," he lied, hoping that his brother was too focused on the pressure Killian was putting on his wound to hear the way his voice shook. In a way, he thought, it was true. He _wasn't_ calling for William Jewell, his captain and boss. He was calling for Liam Jones, his captain and his brother.

But Liam... _William_ shook his head. "I've read your file. You don't have a brother."

"I did," Killian admitted, not trying to hide the grief of being separated from Liam for _centuries_. He hoped Jewell would read through the lines, read him like an open book as Liam could.

Liam froze. "When did you lose him?" His voice spoke of known loss and Killian thought of the unsolved file in Jewell's desk drawer. _That's_ _ **me**_ _, Liam. I'm right here,_ he thought. But he couldn't... he shouldn't.

"A long time ago. I... I miss him." _You, Liam,_ Killian thought sadly. _It's_ _ **you**_ _I miss. But I'd gladly live another three centuries with you not knowing who I am than to risk you to Gothel's new curse._

It didn't matter. None of it would if they couldn't get Liam to help, get _him_ to help. His leg was throbbing, his ribs were screaming, his head was pounding. His right arm was on fire now, the back of his shoulder hot with pain. It felt like torn muscles, only different, somehow _more_ intense. Killian reached up with his prosthetic, but couldn't feel anything - the pain emanated from a point beyond his reach - though the fingers came back sticky with blood.

He ignored it. He had enough to worry about.

Tearing open some of the rolled bandages, Killian went to work stabilizing the branch in Liam's arm and putting enough pressure around the wound to finally stop the bleeding. Liam growled at the pain but allowed Killian to work, watching his every move intently.

"You're hurt," he mumbled, once Killian had tucked the blankets around Liam's shoulders.

Killian just shook his head. "It will keep, we need to worry about you right now."

"I had a brother, too, you know." Liam's eyes closed, the tone of voice one of pain and loss. Killian knew exactly what that was like. "You remind me of him."

"Aye, L-Liam, you've told me. We've looked at the file together, remember?" Killian risked the contact, needing the assurance, and rested his hand on Liam's chest.

"You remind me of him," Liam repeated anyway. "He was my little brother. He followed me everywhere until... until we were separated. I... I miss him, too."

 _I'm right here, Liam. Bloody hell, I'm right_ _ **here**_ _._ He wanted to shout it from the rooftops. He wanted to shout it in Liam's face. He wanted to find Rumplestiltskin's bloody dagger and slide it gracefully between Gothel's ribs while he shouted it in _her_ face, too.

He wanted his brother.

Hell, he'd take on the bloody Darkness, himself, if that's what it took to keep Liam safe.

Shutting his eyes and blowing out a stuttering breath, he calmed himself down. _No,_ he thought. Not even his love for Liam could make him take in the Dark One's curse. He'd never go that far; he couldn't. He couldn't go back down the path he'd followed until Alice had come into his life.

His head dropped back to rest against the seat. He was tired, he was cold, and he hurt. Killian wanted nothing more than to fall asleep and try to escape some of the torment for a bit, but he couldn't risk it. If he fell asleep-

He jerked up, startling a squawk out of Liam. It was full on dark, now, the snow blanketing the car and muting the world, somehow. Air drifted in from the broken window and the shattered windshield, but it seemed warmer in the confined space. He'd fallen asleep. Godsdamnit, he'd fallen asleep and he could have... _Liam_ could have... gods, he couldn't do that again. But he was just so cold and so tired and-

"I'm sorry, little brother," Liam whispered into the darkness.

Killian froze, his breath caught in his chest and what felt like a dagger slicing into his chest. "Li... Liam?" he asked, not daring to hope that his brother remembered everything in the same instant that he was suddenly petrified that his brother had remembered _everything_.

"I'm sorry I couldn't find you," Liam continued, unaware of Killian's plight. He turned the best that he could, grabbing Killian's hand and looking straight at him. "I'm sorry I was too late. Killian, please, can you forgive me?"

Liam didn't know _his_ real name was Killian... had he woken? Was he in danger?

"Please, little brother, I didn't mean for you to die."

 _Oh._

"It's... it's all right, Liam," Killian murmured back, not knowing what else to do, what else to say. "I know you wouldn't have left me if you could stay. I know you didn't mean for anything to happen. I _was_ mad at you, for a long time. I was so angry that you'd gone where I couldn't follow and I abandoned everything you taught me. I didn't understand why we had to be apart, why the universe saw fit to separate us. But we're... we're together now, so it's all right. I forgave you long ago, brother."

Liam shook his head, shifting with a bitten back grimace until he could find Killian's prosthetic, tangle his fingers through the stiff joints. "So much happened, and I tried. I tried to stay with you, to fight to stay with you. But we couldn't... _I_ couldn't make my way back to you. I was weak, little brother, and I couldn't figure out my way back to you until it was too late. You were gone where _I_ couldn't follow. I miss you, Killian. I miss you and I still wish you were here with me. You must have felt so alone and I... I just... I couldn't find you. Not until it was too late."

Killian shuddered, the memories - the grief - he'd long since buried coming to light in his brother's words. He didn't know what was going on - didn't really understand what side of Liam he was seeing, but it didn't matter. His brother needed him and he'd be damned if he was going to fail Liam again.

"It's not too late, Liam. You found me. Aye, it took longer than either of us would have liked, but we're together now, just us against the world."

And it was, would _always_ be the brothers Jones on their quest for good form and glory and, most of all, a happy bloody ending for the two of them. Together.

Even if he had to slay a witch to do it.

"The brothers Jewell," Liam avowed.

 _Aye, close enough for now,_ Killian thought, shifting with a wince as he shivered.

"Rogers?" Liam asked some time later, his eyes more clear and staring - almost accusingly - at Killian. "What's wrong?"

The emotional whiplash Liam was putting him through was more than enough, but Killian couldn't exactly tell _him_ that. It stung more than he'd like to admit to hear his cursed name falling from his brother's lips.

"Rogers," his brother ordered, a tone of voice that Killian had followed for years and then dreamt about for centuries. A tone of voice that he'd never fail to respond to.

"We need to get out of here," he allowed, not quite a lie, but not what was really wrong, either.

Liam nodded, but frowned. "I don't think I can make it too far; everything's a little fuzzy."

Killian shuddered. Hearing his brother admit weakness was… well, it wasn't something he'd ever be prepared for. "That's all right, Liam. I can… _you_ can stay here and I'll try to get help. I just need…"

 _Need what, Jones? A minute to gather your strength, an hour to hope that you'll make it more than ten feet outside the door on this bloody leg? You're not going to make it any further than Liam would._

But Liam was fading again, his eyes glossing over and the shivering starting to worsen. "Please don't leave me, little brother," he begged, lost to the delusion once more.

Killian bit back the tears at the sheer desperation in Liam's voice.

"Please. Please, Killian, I need you with me. Please don't… I'm sorry I lost you. Please don't go!" Liam shifted in the cramped backseat, the blankets falling away from where Killian had tucked them carefully, and knotted his fingers in Killian's shirt. "Please!"

Killian reached out to snag the warm blankets, tucking them back in carefully before he wrapped his fingers around Liam's. "I'll not leave you again, brother," he murmured, ignoring the pervasive cold that started to wrap around him.

Liam's hand was trembling just slightly in his - whether from the cold, the pain, or the sheer depth of relief that Killian saw echoed in his face - and his fingers refused to give up the treasure of Killian's shirt. He dropped his head back against the seat, grimacing when sparks danced in his vision. Gods, he just wanted to start this day over with, get his brother somewhere warm and safe and leave him there.

Killian's fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around Liam's. _No_ , he thought wildly. He'd never wanted to be parted from his brother. Not ever again.

Squeezing his eyes shut against the pain that crested every time he tensed, Killian never noticed when it took him under completely.

* * *

Rogers's hand went limp around Liam's fingers and a bolt of fear shot through him. He didn't understand the feeling, not really. He hadn't felt that in _years_. Not since he'd lost Killian in that bloody back alley, since he had come across his little brother - shot and bleeding out - **_no_**. No, wait, that wasn't right. _Rogers_ had been shot in that alley. Liam hadn't been there when _Killian_ died, too busy chasing his goddamned tail across the city looking for a lead on his brother's whereabouts, looking for the right case to improve his standing on the force so he could open enough doors to get to Killian.

Not knowing that all the while, Killian had been right in the city, under his nose, needing him desperately. And Liam wasn't there. Wasn't there for the only thing in the world that their mother could leave him, for the only person who relied on him (and who _Liam_ relied on when their father had split). Wasn't there when his little brother was gasping out his last breaths, likely wondering why his big brother wasn't there to keep him safe.

No, Liam had failed Killian, but he'd be damned if he would do such a piss poor job of keeping Rogers safe. He'd almost lost the man once, and the stab of regret that accompanied _that_ memory just made him all the more determined to see Rogers safely to a hospital. Rogers obviously needed someone to look out for him and Liam... well Liam would be lying if he said that he didn't need the feeling back that came with successfully looking after someone who looked up to him. They _weren't_ brothers, not by blood anyway, but they were tied together by far more than that. The bonds of fellowship and the thin blue line and everything the proverbial 'they' talked about were more than just lip service. Those things meant something, and it was more than enough to draw he and Rogers close.

Slowly, painfully biting back a groan that nearly turned into a whimper when he jostled his arm, Liam forced himself to sit up. Stars popped in his vision and it felt as though the SUV lurched nauseatingly around him as he tried to gulp in air and stay sitting upright. He had to let go of Kil- Rogers's shirt, throwing his hands out to the seat below him as if the entire vessel... _vessel? it's a bloody car, you idiot_... were rocking on a storm-tossed sea.

Liam wasn't even going to try and justify where his thoughts were floating off to.

Rogers didn't move.

Liam got his first good look at the detective then, cursing loudly through the blanketed silence in the car. He was bloody well going to murder the idiot. Rogers was nearly as pale as a ghost, his white complexion blending into the snow covering the window behind him. Even unconscious, he was shivering, goosebumps covering the exposed flesh that Liam could see.

He cursed again - a nonsensical string of words about a kraken and a demon-child spawning a creature that had more bloody sense than Rogers did. The blankets slipped from Liam's shoulder as he reached subconsciously out to touch Rogers's cheek and started swearing once more.

Rogers was freezing and it was only then that Liam realized - his bloody stubborn and idiotic br- subordinate hadn't taken a goddamned blanket for himself.

Muttering angrily to himself, Liam struggled to separate the two layers of woolen blankets that were wrapped tightly around his too-tall-in-too-small-a-space frame. No good, dumbass, idiotic, son of a- Liam bit off the curse when the blankets finally came free.

"Didn't I teach you anything about self-preservation, you bloody git? Never, _never_ make _yourself_ a victim because nobody is going to look out for you if you're not where I can..." he trailed off, beginning to shake - and not from the cold.

Rogers.

Killian.

 ** _Killian!_**

Rogers - shot and bleeding out in an alley. But no, not _Rogers_. That _hadn't_ happened. Or... rather, it _had,_ but that wasn't the start of their story. No. No, there was so much more than that.

Abandoned by their father, sold into slavery, breaking free of the hold of Silver and the rum that had taken Killian by storm, the _Navy_. Freedom in war, in rising through the ranks of their own station.

Killian, whole and safe and holding _him_ on that bloody, godsforsaken island after _he'd_ made the stupid, self-sacrificial mistake of trusting someone who wasn't his little brother.

Gods, he had a little brother, still.

Killian, shaking with relief when Liam had woken, tears in his eyes and trembling fingers that had clutched at the lapels of his uniform, berating _Liam's_ stubbornness and _his_ lack of self-preservation on that godsforsaken island in the name of good bloody form.

Killian, screaming again - this time for _anyone_ to help him as Liam had collapsed, the poison returning with a vengeance just as they'd made plans to do the honorable thing and report the King's treachery to the Admiralty.

Killian - the last thing Liam had heard before waking up in Hades' bloody clutches - screaming out his grief as Liam had failed him so utterly, leaving him with no one to protect him in their cold, cruel realm of existence.

Hades, quickly restoring him to life before his body could decay, only to hand him over to the bloody demon child Killian had thought was his salvation - a slave once more to Neverland and its ruler - in exchange for information that never _had_ made sense to Liam. After all, how could a _child_ have a full grown son whom Hades feared?

Decades of servitude to bloody Pan and his shadow, always a half step from salvation if he could just get free long enough to barter passage from Pan's nemesis - Captain Hook. Liam would gladly take to piracy if it meant freedom to leave Neverland, to find out what had become of his little brother all those years ago.

All Liam had wanted back then was to find some record of Killian's passing - to know if his little brother had ever been truly free.

But now?

Now, Liam was sitting in a bloody contraption of a vehicle next to the little brother he'd thought must have passed on _centuries_ ago. He didn't know how or why, but he didn't rightly care, either. Killian, _his Killian_ , was here - alive (okay, _barely_ because his little brother was still a bloody idiot, apparently) and he was going to gods-be-damned stay that way. Liam wrapped the blanket tightly around Killian now, terrified that he was too late.

Again.

Always too late, always leaving his brother, but this time - _this time_ \- maybe Killian was going to leave _him_.

 ** _No!_**

Liam gripped his little brother's shoulders, stomping on the cursed memories that brought forth images of another little brother, this one cold and dead on a slab in the morgue. He no longer recognized the face, but felt the grief of loss all the same. He couldn't quite shake the feeling of losing his little brother, even when the only little brother he'd ever known was right here, inexplicably beside him, breathing and shivering.

Liam shook Killian. Hard.

"Kil-" Liam cut himself off. _Rogers_ would think he'd lost his godsdamned mind if he woke up to his Captain calling him by a strange name - by the name of his dead little brother. He couldn't risk it. He needed Rogers to trust him.

He needed it more than he needed explanations, more than he needed to see the recognition in his little brother's eyes, more than he needed the air in his lungs and the scant warmth of the blanket pooled in his lap.

But Killian didn't respond anyway. Didn't wake up and look at him, didn't cock one bloody eyebrow and smirk as he'd done ever since they were boys playing at pirates outside their seaside cottage, play-acting for their mother.

No, Killian remained cold and frighteningly still and unconscious and Liam had never felt so lost in his whole bloody life. He couldn't lose his little brother. Not now, not before he'd even really gotten him back.

Gods, if he lost Killian now...

Grief crashed down on Liam's shoulders with enough force to buckle his spine. He slumped forward, tugging his little brother close and taking advantage of his unconsciousness for only a moment, tucking Killian's head beneath his chin and hugging him as tightly as he could manage. He just needed a moment to gather his resolve, to reassure himself that Killian was truly alive, that Liam hadn't yet failed his-

His hands were sticky.

 _What the bloody... oh gods,_ _ **blood**_ _._

"Son of a godsdamned kraken, Killian Jones!" Liam spat as he tugged Killian further forward, hiking his brother's jacket up his back to see the shirt beneath nearly saturated with blood. Shaking, Liam reached up to find the rend in the leather and tore it further, exposing the jagged laceration that was nearly as long as his hand. Killian must have been cut by the glass of the broken passenger side window during the crash.

"Bloody hell, you stubborn, self-sacrificial..." he trailed off into Gaelic, a language he hadn't spoken in centuries - not since he'd been lost to Killian and washed up on the bloody shores of Neverland, alone and lost.

"Mac kraken agus an scáth fuilteach sin," Liam muttered again, throwing in an insult to Pan's bloody shadow while he was at it. Killian stirred when Liam reached for the first aid kit, digging haphazardly through until he could find something suitable - an abdominal combine pad as it turned out - and mashed it with all the strength he had against the gash on his little brother's back.

Killian writhed weakly, trying to turn away, but Liam persisted. "Serves you right, you moron," he seethed and pressed harder.

 _That_ tore a little whimper from Killian's lips that struck Liam right in the heart.

"I know, little brother, I'm sorry," he whispered, laying Killian back against the seat and using his own weight as pressure against the wound. Liam covered him with both blankets, tucking the ends under Killian's shoulders to keep them secure. "Don't worry, I'm going to get us out of this mess."

Liam turned then, intent on getting out of the car and searching for the road, when the whole world seemed to tilt and whirl around him. "Bloody hell," he managed, gripping his hair with one hand and the backseat with the other.

It didn't help.

His arm throbbed, his head was pounding, the world was spinning. None of it should have mattered because Killian was bleeding and only somewhat conscious in the seat next to him. Gasping, moaning a little in spite of himself, Liam tried to scrabble for the door handle, needing to get out, get to the road, get help.

He had barely managed to lock his fingers on the handle when his battle of wills with his stomach came to an abrupt and violent end. Liam nearly blacked out, his head coming to rest on the driver's seat as he forced the stars popping in his vision to not send him back to the calm of unconsciousness.

Killian needed him.

"Looks like you two could use some help," a chipper voice startled Liam badly, making his head shoot up in search of the newest threat and causing the world to tilt dangerously around him again.

"Who the bloody hell are _you_?"


	3. Chapter 3

"I suppose the real question is, ' _who_ the bloody hell are _you_?" The girl made a startlingly accurate mockery of his accent and Liam blanched for a moment. She had this look on her face that reminded him so much of... His thoughts trailed away from his little brother when the girl's face fell. "You two are really hurt, aren't ya?"

Something clicked in his head, and he didn't really understand why. "Tilly?"

She nodded automatically, not really looking at him, but at his little brother. The look on her face as it crumpled, the devastation there, it all started to make a strange kind of sense as to how they'd gotten into this mess in the first place.

"How did you find us, lass?" He didn't understand how she'd gotten here, how she'd found them.

If she would help them.

"I just looked for what wasn't there," she replied cryptically, not taking her eyes off his brother. She looked so familiar.

"What?"

She smiled, but it was a sad thing. "I knew he'd come looking for me. He'd never leave me out in the cold, not on a night like this. I've spent colder nights, you know, out in the forest. But not here."

Liam still didn't understand.

"When he didn't show up, I came looking. But he's not waking up..." she trailed off, turning her tortured glance towards him. "I don't even know if he's really awake."

Liam blinked, not understanding.

"Are _you_ awake? You're not supposed to be if you are," she riddled again.

He didn't know what made him understand. If it was her mannerisms or just a remnant of the curse. If he'd ever known who she was or if he'd never met her before. He didn't understand how he knew - just that he knew.

"Aye, luv, I'm awake. And so are you."

She nodded. "He named me Alice. After your-"

"After our mother," Liam finished. "Of course he did. Alice, we-"

"You need help. I'll be back in a tiff!"

And she was off, her footsteps muffled in the snow and gone so suddenly that Liam wasn't entirely sure that she wasn't a figment of his imagination.

Did he have a niece to worry about now, as well?

Liam twisted around, trying to peer out the back window of the SUV to watch Alice scamper off, seemingly unperturbed by the blizzard swirling around her. All too quickly, she was lost to the whiteout conditions and Liam couldn't do anything more for her.

Besides, he had his little brother to worry about, still.

Killian was shivering more violently now, tiny little whimpers escaping from him though his face was still slack with unconsciousness.

Liam shifted again, moving closer to his brother and trying to share what body heat he could. Killian was terrifyingly pale, his eyelashes sooty against his cheeks. There wasn't much else he could do, what with the way the world was tilting around him and the way his own shivering was lighting a fire in his arm. Neither one of them was in any state of health, _both_ of them needed help - at least an hour ago, if not sooner. There was nothing he could do other than try and keep them both alive until Alice could get back with help.

Gods, his niece had better hurry.

His _niece_. He had a niece. Killian had sired a _child_. One who, by all accounts (from what he could see in her eyes anyway) had been raised well and loved thoroughly. Liam smiled a little - Killian hadn't had the best role model in their father in how to parent, but Liam wasn't so blind as to think that Brennan had any influence over them anyway. No, Liam knew that any ability to parent that Killian had grown into, it was solely due to his little brother's strength of character.

Liam had never been more proud of Killian.

Never.

Of course, he couldn't tell him that. Rogers wouldn't understand, may be drawn to Ali- Tilly like Jewell had been to Kil- Rogers, but didn't have a daughter.

He'd have to wake him up, and soon.

Alice needed her father, and Liam needed his little brother.

Killian needed him, too, even if he didn't know it yet.

Liam sighed, resisting the urge to pull Killian forward and check on the wound in his back. He knew the pressure was better for it, but not being able to see if the bleeding had stopped was terrifying. He wanted to control it, wanted to control everything about this situation. Especially now that he'd inexplicably gotten his little brother back and both sets of memories in his head were shouting from the rooftops in a combination of relief and fear.

Gods, what if he lost him again?

Liam was sure this wasn't another curse, that there wouldn't be a magical do-over if his brother died here in this car. He didn't understand how Killian was _here_ , how he wasn't long ago returned to the sea to rest, how he was _here_.

He didn't bloody care.

Killian was here and Liam was going to make damned sure that he was going to stay that way.

"Liam?" Killian's whisper rang through the SUV and nearly made Liam shout in startled concern.

 _Put a lid on the cursed memories, Jones,_ he thought hastily. "Rogers?"

Killian sighed sadly and Liam began to hope. It all came flooding back to him, the last few hours in the car, the stilted conversations, calling him _Liam_ , calling him _brother_.

He turned hopeful, tortured eyes up to where Killian was looking at him blearily. He had to try. He could always blame it on stress if he were wrong.

"Ki..." he cleared his throat, his heart nearly choking him. "Killian?"

Startled, frightened eyes met his own gaze, Killian looking at him with such hope that Liam _knew_ it already.

"Little brother?"

Killian very clearly wasn't breathing, shaking with tears checked in the corners of his eyes. "Liam?" he whispered, sounding nearly terrified.

Liam nodded, reaching out to clasp a hand over Killian's knee, tears stinging his own eyes.

"I..." Killian started, "I need..."

"What do you need, Killian? Help is coming." There would be time for explanations later.

But the guarded look didn't leave. "I need you to tell me your last name."

 _Oh. Right._ Killian was just as worried as he was.

Liam smiled gently, hand coming up to cup the back of Killian's neck. "Glory for the Jones brothers, aye Killian?"

Liam Jones had spent centuries in Neverland, dreaming of the day he'd find out what had happened to his little brother. He had spent the first few years imagining that he could escape and reunite with Killian. Had pictured the reunion so many times, locked in that godsdamned cage in that bloody tree.

Had expected tears, hugs, disbelief, anger. Anything and everything. Or so he thought.

Liam Jones had never expected this.

Killian pulled sharply away from him, plastering himself against the door and stifling a cry as he jostled some injury that Liam wanted to catalogue and _fix_. He started shaking his head 'no', scrabbling for the door handle.

He was shaking.

Violently.

"Killian?" Liam didn't know what to do. What was _wrong_. How to fix this.

Was it because Killian had thought him long dead? Liam had thought the same about _him_ and was just relieved to find he got another chance with his little brother. Was it because he'd abandoned Killian when he was still so young, so vulnerable? Was it superstition? Was it... he just didn't _know_.

"No. No no no. Nonononono. You can't be awake. You're not supposed to be awake. Jewell was safe. You're not Jewell anymore. You're _Liam_ and she's going to come for you. I can't protect you from her. Not now, not here. Not like this." Killian's arm rose, his prosthetic running jerkily through his hair as he muttered maniacally.

"Killian, it's all right," he soothed. "Whatever it is, we'll figure it out. It's the two of us again. The two of us together, Kil- it's all right, just calm down."

Killian kept muttering, eyes wild, tears in his eyes. "I can't lose you again."

"You're not _going to_ , little brother. Come on now, it's all right. Just slow down. I don't understand." Liam reached out hesitantly, telegraphing his intentions before he laid his hand, palm up, next to Killian's right hand. He wouldn't have to move it much, wouldn't risk pulling on his shoulder, he just had to-

Killian clutched his hand desperately, holding on for dear life.

Killian's fingers were freezing around his own, making Liam stare at their hands in something approaching wonder. They were both in the same car, had been in the elements for the same amount of time. And yet. Killian was bloody freezing. God, how long had Liam been out cold in the back, secure under the blankets they should have been sharing. How much blood had his little brother lost from that gash in his back? What other injuries was he hiding, did Liam need to be worried about shock, should he be-

"Li-" Killian tried to speak, shaking violently and staring at Liam imploringly. Gods, he looked so bloody _young_ , like those first days on Silver's ship, begging Liam to make it right, to keep him safe, to _lead_ him.

"It's all right, little brother," Liam assuaged, gentling his voice as if speaking to a frightened stray. "I've got you now. Just relax, Killian, it's going to be all right."

Killian's tremors eased fractionally, leaning almost imperceptibly towards Liam, his hand still contracted almost painfully around Liam's own fingers. He looked even younger than he had a moment ago, seemingly caught between his terror and his natural tendency to follow where Liam led.

"Let's get you situated more comfortably, aye?" Liam reached out to ease Killian back around, wrapping his arm around his little brother's shoulders and tugging him close. A quick check that the abdominal pad was still firmly in place and a sharp tug of the blankets to keep his brother warm, and Liam was more comfortable than he'd been in centuries - with Killian secure under his arm where he could keep him safe.

"Li'm," Killian slurred, the adrenaline waning and leaving him near boneless against Liam's side. "You've gotta stay safe. I need you."

Liam shut his eyes against the pain, against the _loss_ in his brother's voice and murmured softly into his hair. "I've got you, little brother. You're safe now."

Killian shook his head, but it was sloppy, not something Liam had ever associated with the young Lieutenant who had turned his life around so completely once Liam had bartered with a god for their freedom. Liam's unease ratcheted up past worry and concern and into a nearly crippling fear. Alice needed to hurry up. The ambulance needed to get here. He needed to save his brother.

" _'m_ safe. Sh' doe'n't wan' _me_. Already used me. But sh' needs y'r heart, Li'm. Please, brother. Stay safe. Can' lose you 'gain." Killian tucked his head more firmly under Liam's chin, tightening his fingers as much as he was able as if this woman he was so afraid of would materialize in the SUV and steal Liam from under his nose.

His little brother was _scared_. It wasn't an emotion Liam was used to seeing in his brother. Even when they were small, Killian was brash and fearless. Not even the cane nor the whip, not even the bloody _cat_ could break his brother's hold on his temper. Sure, he may have _been_ afraid, and who wouldn't have been under the circumstances? But he'd never _looked_ it.

"I'll keep a weather eye out, Killian," Liam vowed. "I promise I won't leave you again. Not again, little brother, I swear it. I'm here."

Killian nodded, but his movements were slowed, his eyes when he looked up at his brother were glassy and unfocused. "m cold, Li..." his words trailed off as he dropped his head back to Liam's chest, seizing up a moment as he shivered before going completely limp.

"Killian?" Liam questioned. "Killian?!"

There was no answer. He shook his brother hard, hoping beyond hope for some kind of response.

Killian flopped limply against his chest, his hand lax in Liam's.

"Killian!"

Liam tore the blanket from around his shoulders, shivering when the cold in the SUV assaulted him, but ignoring it as he wrapped the wool tightly around Killian. The combine pad was still in place, pinned between Killian's shoulder and the backseat. He could still smell the blood, though, far too cloying and pervasive in the air to be under control. Was he bleeding from somewhere else? Was there something Liam couldn't fix? Was he going to lose Killian before he had a chance to find out how he was _here_? Pressing down harder on the wound, Liam did something he hadn't done since his mother had been dying in their seaside cottage.

He prayed.

In English, in Gaelic, to any god he could think of, any god he'd ever _heard_ of. Anyone and anything that would keep his brother with him. Gods, he needed to go after Alice, make sure she-

"They're coming."

She came out of nowhere, he was half-convinced she was a ghost or a hallucination. The thought came unbidden and nearly made Liam weep in fear - what if she _was_ a hallucination? What if no one had gone for help? What if no one knew-

"Uncle Liam?"

Alice had managed to climb into the SUV through the driver's side door when he wasn't looking, her thin hand reaching around the tree branches resting on the console to reach for him and squeeze his knee in reassurance.

She was real. Bloody hell, she was real and that meant help was coming.

"I'm all right, sweet. You called the ambulance?"

She nodded. "I found some service a little ways up the road. Told them who you were. They're all coming."

Liam _did_ start crying then, tears slipping - unbidden - down his cheeks.

"Uncle Liam?"

"'m all right, little lass. We're going to get your fath... gods, your father _is_ awake, luv... we're going to save him."

She grinned, and he could see all of the attributes that Killian had passed down to her - and a little of their mother's looks, too - in her beaming face.

"Papa?" she whispered, tearing her gaze away from Liam to stare hopefully at her father.

Killian didn't so much as breathe too heavily, his chest rising and falling only slightly. She called for him again and again, each time making Liam's heart clench just a little bit harder, making the tears fall faster down his cheeks.

"He'll... he'll be all... your father's strong, sweet. He's stronger than I am. He'll be all right." Liam wished it sounded more than an empty promise, cursed under his breath for even thinking _that_ , and hugged Killian tighter.

Alice nodded sadly, her lower lip trembling as she turned glassy, wide eyes on him. "I need him to come back."

"I do too, little one. We'll be strong for him together, aye?"

Liam may not have known much about the relationship between his brother and his niece, but he knew this - Killian would rather die than leave his little girl alone and abandoned. The _least_ Liam could do for him was be strong for her.

Alice started to say something else, but stopped abruptly, her eyes wide.

It took a second longer, so focused as he was on the sound of Killian's breathing, but then he heard it, too.

Ambulance sirens.

He grinned at Alice, or rather at the back of her head as she scampered off again, out of the car and presumably up to the road to flag down the EMTs.

There was a flurry of activity then, men asking questions and taking vital signs and focusing on both of them until Liam waved them off. He was fine, his arm could wait - Killian had done a fine job to stop the bleeding - and his brother needed them far more than he did.

Alice stood behind them, hopping from foot to foot and trying to stay out of the way.

There was a collar and gauze pads and... gods what were they looking at on his _leg_? What had he missed? Then something orange and blue wrapped around whatever injury _that_ was - Liam belatedly recognized the SAM splint that must be stabilizing a fracture.

And then they were moving Killian, out of the car and onto the longboard that they'd use to transport him up the hill and to a gurney. To help.

One of the men came around the vehicle, pulling open the other door and fiddling with Liam's arm despite his protests. He couldn't see Killian, couldn't hear Alice, needed to keep them safe. He growled at the man until the EMT raised his hands in acquiescence and helped him out of the back seat.

The world went dark before Liam could take five steps away from his car.

He couldn't have been out for long, just barely long enough for the EMTs to clearly panic and strap him to a backboard of his own - trussed up tighter than a mutineer to the mast awaiting sentence. Liam struggled despite knowing it was useless, needing to get to his brother, needing to get-

"Please stop, Uncle Liam," Alice begged from his side, kneeling in the snow and soaking her jeans. He was caught by the unreasonable need to sit up and get her out of the snow. Before he could demand that she stand up and get someplace warm, Alice reached out and tangled her fingers in his. "Let them help you."

There was something in her eyes - something his stomach rebelled against seeing seated there. _Fear_. She looked so frightened, so much like her father had as a little boy left alone in the dark. Gods, she looked just like Killian when she-

 _Killian_.

"Where's your father?" Liam all but shouted, immediately groaning and trying to curl in on himself when the sound of his own voice set off every nerve ending in his head. Tears leaked out of his eyes, unbidden, as the pain crescendoed and nearly took him under with it. He had to stay with it, he had to find out about Killian, he had to…

When the backboard underneath him was lifted, the sickening feeling of weightlessness washed over him and sucked him back into unconsciousness.

* * *

Sniffling. Quiet tears. Steady beeping. Constant whirring. Muted footsteps. Garbled Announcements.

Hospital.

But who was crying?

And how had he gotten from those icy woods to the hospital?

And where was his brother?

Killian shot up in the bed, regretting it immediately, but forcing himself to maintain his balance as he hunched over his lap and breathed through his nose. Memories came crashing back - Liam _Jones_ , his brother was awake and that meant he was in danger. Gothel was out there and Killian had no idea what she wanted nor why she needed Liam for it, only that he would take her to the Underworld with him before he let that witch use his brother.

Even if it meant leaving his brother behind.

A nasty voice in the back of his head that had often let loose his temper whispered that turnabout was only fair pay.

Killian felt sick to his stomach just thinking about where that thought had come from. He'd always known he wasn't a good man, not like Liam. And he knew that Liam hadn't meant to leave him. He _knew_ that. But the fact remained that he'd been a lost boy for centuries, left to face the world alone because his brother was as stubborn and loyal as the day was long.

And Killian had suffered immeasurably and lost so much in that time.

 _No_. No, that wasn't Liam's fault. His brother had died nobly, in pursuit of honor and everything that made him _good_. Killian just didn't measure up to that.

And probably never would.

But the fact remained that, no matter how much he couldn't compare to his brother and would never be enough for _that_ , he was a an utterly selfish bastard who would do anything and everything a chance to allow his brother to truly live. Like he hadn't had a chance to the first time around.

More sniffles, and shifting in the chair next to him. "Are you really awake?"

 _Alice._

No. Tilly.

Killian wasn't sure if Gothel wanted Alice awake or not, but he was absolutely sure that he would protect her more vehemently than even his own brother. And it was safer if she were still cursed.

Gods, at least the bloody curse that kept them apart didn't seem to work here. It was all he could do to stay sitting in that bed, barely conscious, and not vault himself into her arms and hold her close. His daughter.

"Tilly?" he asked, tilting his head and ignoring the way the room spun in favor of making sure his baby girl was all right.

She was curled up in a chair, looking far too uncomfortable and far too bloody young - and old, they'd lost so much time together - huddled under a blanket and watching him. She tried to smile, but her lower lip wobbled and only the barest reminder that she _wasn't_ his daughter in this realm kept him from sweeping her up like he'd done when she was young to soothe her.

"What's the matter, Tilly? Where'd you come from?"

Tilly shifted in the chair, turning the saddest eyes he'd seen on her in awhile - and that was saying something. "I hate it when you call me that," she whispered brokenly.

 _No._

 _Yes. Could it be?_

Killian was terrified to get his hopes up, but he wanted. Oh gods, how much he wanted for her to know who he was.

"Would you…" he began, ignoring how tremulous his own voice sounded. "Would you prefer it if I called you Starfish?"

It was worth it. Whatever pain he'd gone through up until this point was worth it to see _that_ look on his daughter's face before she launched herself out of the chair and into his arms.

"Papa!"

It hurt. Everything hurt and he was partly sure that he was dying, the bruises on his chest and the jagged tear in his back and his bloody leg were all screaming for her to _get off._ He didn't care. Even as the world started to spin around them and stars danced in his vision, even as monitors behind him screamed and his hands began to shake, Killian just held on tighter, hoping that Alice - _Alice, by gods, it was Alice_ \- didn't notice how damp her hair was getting.

"You were asleep for a long time, Papa," she mumbled into his chest, her own tears soaking his hospital gown.

"I know, my heart. I'm so sorry." Killian tugged her impossibly closer, ignoring the way she sat on his leg in favor of muffling her quiet whimpers.

"Detective Rogers are you all- Hey! I chased you out of here twice already. I'm calling Security, Detective, don't-"

"Don't you dare!" Killian hissed, putting his hand up to shield Alice as if he could protect her in the state he was in. The monitors continued to scream and the nurse continued to glare as everything grew hazy.

"Papa!" Alice cried again, hands grasping at his back and igniting more pain as she clutched his shoulders to keep him with her. "Don't leave me again!"

As his back hit the mattress and his shoulder erupted into an all-encompassing agony, Killian realized that he hadn't even asked about Liam yet.

He didn't have a chance before the pull of darkness claimed him.

It was quiet the next time he woke, the beeping of the monitors settling in the back of his mind even before he was aware that he was waking up. There were quiet footsteps moving around his room, not stealthy but sure.

 _Alice_ , he thought. She must be getting so bored; his girl was always on the move, always looking for her next adventure. Ever since she'd been stuck in that tower, ever since they'd come to Washington, she was always moving.

"Starfish?" he mumbled, turning his head towards her as she stepped up to his bedside. He'd open his eyes in just a moment, he was sure.

"Excuse me?" a voice said, startling Killian enough to open his eyes.

 _Not Alice._

The woman in scrubs stared at him like she wanted to hit a panic button somewhere, and she was certainly not his daughter. Wasn't Alice here? Hadn't she been just there a moment ago? Didn't he remember her _knowing_ him?

"Was there a young woman here?" he asked, trying to push himself up and realizing, belatedly, that his right arm was strapped to his chest. _That_ hadn't been like that before, he was sure of it.

Killian nearly toppled over trying for any other position than flat on his back. There was a pillow keeping the injury to his back away from the mattress, but it wasn't helping much. The nurse huffed at him before steadying him and raising the head of the bed.

"Please, the young woman. Where is she?" Killian tried again once he was - more or less - sitting up. He felt strangely naked beneath the blankets, the thin hospital gown doing little to protect him. There was something about the leather he'd worn for centuries, as much practical protection as it was symbolic armor.

Some days he missed it.

"I don't know who you're talking about, Detective," she told him, writing down the numbers on the monitor. "I'll let your doctor know you're awake. He should be in shortly."

Killian watched, dumbstruck, as she strutted out the door.

Where was Alice?

Had she even been there in the first place?

Was any of it real?

 _Liam_.

Killian kept being surprised at just how long it was taking him to remember his brother. It was, he supposed, only fair - since Liam was supposed to have been dead for centuries and Alice was… gods, was she Alice or was she still Tilly? It just all seemed so convenient to be given back his brother _and_ his daughter in the span of a few… hours? Days? Weeks? How long had it been since the accident?

And where was his family?

Killian swung his legs around, letting them hang off the bed and getting his equilibrium before attempting to stand.

"Just how far do you think you're going to get, Detective?" Weaver's voice had Killian spinning around and nearly toppling to the floor as the world spun around him.

 _Probably not weeks then_.

Nausea assaulted him, making Killian clamp his eyes shut and clench his fist tightly in the sling that held it. Gods, with neither of his hands available to… he was nearly helpless right now.

Killian slitted his eyes open when a rhythmic squeaking moved into the room.

Weaver had a wheelchair.

"I thought you might want to check on y- our captain," was all he said as he gestured for Killian to sit.

Killian stared defiantly for a moment, loathe to show weakness in front of the crocodile. They may not be the sworn enemies they once were, Alice going a long way towards reconciling both of them, but old habits died hard.

Practicality won out quickly however - that and fear of what Weaver was going to wheel him towards - and Killian slumped into the ancient wheelchair. Weaver made quick work of silencing the monitors, detangling the wires, and hanging the IV on the chair back. Clearly, he'd done this before. Then they slipped out of the room with surprising stealth.

Killian wasn't going to question how no one had come to stop them; he needed to see Liam.

"It's not… pretty, Dearie," Weaver warned when they snuck out of the elevator two floors above where Killian had been staying. His partner flashed an id badge over the keylock to the ICU and wheeled Killian in as if they belonged there.

Killian nodded by reaction more than understanding. He didn't care _what_ Liam looked like, Killian just needed to see that his brother was still with them. He didn't know what he'd do if he lost Liam again. He'd even take Jewell if that was all he got.

Killian Jones hadn't gotten too many second chances in his long, long life. He didn't want to squander this one.

He should have taken better heed of what Weaver was trying to tell him.

Liam was in the room, all right. He was hooked up to so many monitors with so many wires snaking underneath the blankets that Killian wondered if there was anything left of Liam at all. But that wasn't the worst of it.

As Killian nodded to Weaver to bring him closer to Liam's side, his eyes were transfixed by the rise and fall of the ventilator - the even cadence of whooshing and sucking that breathed for his brother was hypnotic and terrifying. He followed the path of the tube from the machine to his brother's mouth and was caught up in the insane notion that he needed to pull it away from Liam in order for his brother to breathe. It was secured completely, looking like someone had gagged Liam to keep him from crying out at the pain he must be in.

And then Killian looked further, cataloguing the paleness to Liam's skin, the absolute lack of expression in his brother's face, the… the tape that kept Liam's eyes shut to the world. It seemed like his big brother wasn't even there, just a badly crafted caricature.

Killian reached out hesitantly, the fingers of his prosthetic slipping tentatively under his brother's limp hand. He managed enough control to tighten his grip imperceptibly, and for once was glad that there was no feeling in those fingers. He could imagine that Liam's hand was gripping his back, that his skin wasn't cold to the touch, that he wasn't going to lose his brother.

"Come back to me brother, please?"


End file.
